


Meminerunt Omnia Amantes

by enigmaticblue



Series: The Latin 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-08 19:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's after the apocalypse, and Castiel finds himself with new orders and a small problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meminerunt Omnia Amantes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for thomasina75's birthday. She asked for fic that had Dean with amnesia. My wish is her command. (Mostly.) The title, translated, means: "Lovers remember all."

Castiel glanced down at the new-made skin of his hands, noting the fine dark hairs and the long, competent fingers. They were the perfect match to Jimmy Novak’s hands, as he well knew. But Jimmy was back home with his family, and he was here, banished for the space of a mortal’s life.

Specifically, the space of Dean Winchester’s life. When Michael had suggested the punishment, Castiel thought he’d seen a sparkle of humor in the archangel’s eyes, and their Father had seemed to respond with answering humor.

Castiel suspected that they knew his “punishment” was more of a reward, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had disobeyed, and most angels would hear about his exile and feel sympathy, rather than envy.

In reality, both he and Jimmy had been given a reprieve and a gift.

Now, however, Castiel had a job to do, and there was no time to stand around meditating on his Father’s wisdom and goodness. He looked up at the cinderblock and glass edifice of the hospital and glanced around him, wondering how anyone could heal in such an impersonal building.

Turning his mind to the task at hand, Castiel strode across the street, dodging the oncoming traffic and entering the automatic doors. He saw Sam just inside, standing by the intake desk.

“Dean Winchester.” Sam was obviously repeating himself. “I got a call, saying that there was a guy here with my number in his pocket.

“Our records don’t show anyone by that name.” Castiel heard the impatience in her voice, and saw her reach for the phone.

Castiel stepped forward. “Excuse me.”

“Cas.” Sam’s eyes widened. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I was recalled for a time.” Castiel turned to the nurse. “You do have a John Doe, don’t you? One who recently awoke from a coma?”

The nurse glared at him suspiciously. “And you are?”

“My brother’s boyfriend,” Sam said. “Look, Dean’s been missing for days now, and he’s the only family I have left.”

The nurse’s face softened at that, and she nodded. “I’ll check.” After a few seconds, she looked up, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry, I was looking at the wrong form. He’s on the fourth floor. Room 418.”

“Thank you.” Castiel took Sam’s arm and led him towards the elevator. “How did you lose Dean?”

“You tell me,” Sam replied. “You were with him last.”

Castiel shook his head. “I was recalled, Sam. The last I saw of Dean, he was fine, and he was going to look for you.”

“What does it mean you were recalled?” Sam hissed, keeping his voice down as they passed the nurse’s station.

Castiel sighed. “Do you remember when you prayed for my release?”

“Yeah, sure.”

They had stopped outside room 418, and as anxious as Castiel was to see Dean, he knew Sam well enough to know that the younger Winchester wasn’t going to stop pushing until he had answers.

“I was released for a time,” Castiel explained. “But there were consequences to my disobedience.”

“And?”

“And I have been banished, at least for a while. You might say I’ve been demoted to guardian angel for Dean.”

Sam snorted. “That’s your punishment?”

“Others will see it as such. That’s all that matters. Jimmy is back with his family, and I have this form for my own.” Castiel pushed open the door; Dean was flirting with the nurse standing next to his bed, giving her his typical charming smile.

“Dean.” Sam pushed past Castiel, crossing to Dean’s bedside in just a few short strides. “How are you feeling?”

Dean frowned. “Uh, sorry. Do I know you?”

Sam’s eyes widened. “I’m your _brother_. Sam.”

“Mr. Winchester is suffering from amnesia,” the nurse broke in. “He’s been in a coma for the last few days and only just woke up yesterday.”

Sam turned to stare at her. “Amnesia? What sort?”

The nurse hesitated, looking at Dean as though trying to determine whether she could leave him alone with them. “I’ll get the doctor.”

Dean was staring at them suspiciously. “So, if you’re my brother, who’s he?”

“Castiel, your boyfriend.”

Castiel could sense that Sam’s shock and dismay that Dean hadn’t recognized him had caused Sam to be less tactful than he might have been. Dean flushed and ran a hand over his flattened hair. “Oh, uh, sorry, man.”

“It’s fine, Dean. Do you remember anything?” Castiel asked gently.

Dean shook his head. “Bits and pieces, my name. Everything is all jumbled, though. None of it makes sense.”

“We’ll get it figured out, Dean,” Sam promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Excuse me?” The nurse stuck her head into the room. “The doctor would like to see you outside, Sam.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, sure. Castiel?”

“I’ll stay.” Castiel took the seat next to Dean’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

Dean shrugged. “Confused, a little freaked out.” His eyes narrowed. “How do I know you two are who you say you are?”

“You don’t trust us?”

“Why should I?” Dean tugged the neck of his hospital gown higher. “I don’t know you. Hell, I don’t even know myself.”

“You have a scar on your upper right arm in the shape of a handprint,” Castiel said quietly. “And a tattoo over your heart that matches the one Sam has. He will show you if you ask. There is also a scar on your left arm from a knife.” He raised his eyebrows. “Shall I go on? I could categorize every mark on your body, Dean.”

Dean’s face had flushed, and Castiel recognized the signs of arousal.

Dean swallowed audibly. “Uh. Yeah. I guess you would be able to.”

They both glanced at Sam as he slipped inside the room, moving more stealthily than it would seem anyone his size should. He carried a bundle that he dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. “We have to get out of here.”

“Wait, why?” Dean protested. “I haven’t eaten yet!”

“We’ll get something on the road.”

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Castiel inquired, feeling a small flare of alarm. Without his memories, Dean was vulnerable to a variety of threats—even if demons weren’t one of them with Lucifer dead and the gates of Hell sealed. There just weren’t enough demons left on earth to pose much of a problem, but there were plenty of other things that might.

Sam sighed. “Dean’s been in the hospital for days. I don’t have a credit card with a limit that high, and there’s no way we can afford to pay for it. Our best chance is to take off now, before they start asking too many questions. The doctor said he wasn’t in any danger, and his memory would come back or it wouldn’t.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” Dean protested. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No,” Sam said shortly. “Not this time.”

Castiel touched Dean’s shoulder. “Please, trust us.”

In a way, it was an unfair request; Dean didn’t know them, and he had little other choice. Still, Castiel had to ask, and he felt no small measure of relief when Dean nodded, running a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Yeah, okay. I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam’s face softened. “I wish we had more time.” He looked at Castiel. “How are we going to do this?”

“Where’s your car?”

“Out in the parking lot, why?”

“I can get us out of the building unseen.” There were a few things that Castiel wasn’t allowed to do, certain miracles that he hadn’t been given leave to perform, and he no longer had the power he’d had before. That was part of his punishment, the only part he thought might actually prove a burden. “I’ll need a ride, however. I cannot transport anyone else more than a few hundred yards now, and I’m required to stay with Dean when possible.”

“Yeah, sure, Cas,” Sam assured him. “Come on, Dean. Your bag’s still in the trunk, so you’ll only have to wear the scrubs for a little while.”

Dean looked from Sam to Castiel and back again. “Is it true what he said?” Dean asked, jerking his head in Castiel’s direction. “About the tattoo?”

Sam sighed, then pulled his shirt down to reveal the protective mark. “Yeah, it’s true. We have to go, Dean.”

That seemed to satisfy Dean, and he carefully pulled the IV from his arm and began pulling on the scrubs while Sam searched the room for Dean’s possessions. Castiel noted with interest that Dean was careful to reveal as little of his body as possible, slipping on the pants without taking off his hospital robe, and turning his back to them as he put on the shirt.

“Okay, so how are we getting out of here?” Dean asked as he pulled on his boots, the only thing Sam had been able to find.

“Step closer,” Castiel ordered. Both Winchesters did so, and Castiel touched both of them on the forehead, transporting the three of them next to the Impala in the blink of an eye.

Sam was unfazed, and he immediately unlocked the car door and slid behind the wheel. Dean stood frozen, staring at Castiel. “What the fuck?” he finally stammered out.

“We needed to leave without being seen.” Castiel wondered if he should apologize, but he wasn’t sorry.

Dean didn’t move, but his breath came in quick bursts, and his hands were visibly trembling. Castiel could see the fear flickering in Dean’s eyes, and was sorry for that, but there was no easy way to reassure him.

“Get in the car, Dean,” Sam said from the driver’s seat. “We’ll explain everything once we’re on the road.”

Castiel watched Dean’s eyes dart around the parking lot, to the car, and back to Castiel. Castiel had seen that expression on Dean’s face before, generally when he was trying to find an escape route. “Please.” Castiel moved closer. “I would not hurt you, Dean, and I will not lie to you. You are safer with us.”

Dean finally nodded and climbed into the backseat. Castiel hesitated before walking around the car and sliding in next to Sam, who was staring at his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“So, is this your car?” Dean asked from the backseat.

Sam closed his eyes, the devastation in his face clear. “No, Dean, it’s yours.”

~~~~~

The tension in the motel room was palpable. Sam sat on the bed closest to the door, his right leg jiggling in a nervous rhythm. Dean sat across from him, his hands braced on his knees, looking from Sam to Castiel, a lost expression on his face.

Castiel couldn’t blame him. Dean had taken the news that Castiel was an angel, and that Dean had been the one to stop the apocalypse by killing Lucifer remarkably well. But then, Castiel had already demonstrated that he was something other than human by transporting Dean and Sam out of the hospital in the blink of an eye.

But the fact that Dean _wasn’t_ running or yelling, or professing disbelief, probably spoke more of shock and bewilderment than acceptance.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Castiel spoke. “Dean, perhaps you would like to get cleaned up?”

Relief at having something to do shone clearly in Dean’s eyes, and he stood. “Yeah, I would. I’ll just—” Dean glanced at Sam, as though seeking his permission, too, but Sam turned his head away. “I’ll grab a shower.”

Sam pushed himself up off the bed as soon as the bathroom door had closed behind Dean. “I have to get something from the car. Would you stay with him, Cas?”

“Of course.” When the door shut behind Sam, Castiel closed his eyes and leaned back in the rickety motel chair as he listened to the sound of water running. He was tired, weary in a way that was completely unfamiliar. He hadn’t been prepared for Dean not to know him.

A quick knock on the door a short time later was followed by Sam poking his head into the room. “Cas? Can you come outside for a minute?”

Castiel rose wearily and followed Sam. “What is it?”

“Can you fix him?”

Castiel shook his head. “That is beyond my powers.”

Sam sighed. “That’s kind of what I figured.” He held out a room key. “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“The room.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I got another one, just in case. I thought—well, I just…”

Castiel had come to know Sam almost as well as he knew Dean; he understood how difficult this was.

“Of course.”

“Thanks. We’ll head to Bobby’s tomorrow and wait things out.”

Castiel decided that it would be impolitic to point out that Dean might never regain his memories. When he reentered the room, Dean was already out of the shower and dressed in the clothing found in his bag.

“Where’s Sam?”

“He got his own room,” Castiel replied. “I believe he wanted to give us some privacy.”

Dean flushed and looked away. “Oh. Right.”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Castiel assured him.

Dean rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Uh, so we’re really—you know?”

“We were.”

“But not now?”

“That would depend on you.”

Dean sank down onto the bed. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Cas.”

Castiel sat down next to him, keeping a discreet distance, not wanting to crowd Dean, but encouraged by Dean’s use of his nickname. Castiel remained silent, knowing by now that Dean would say more if Castiel said nothing at all.

“So, uh, I’m really gay?” Dean finally asked, breaking the silence. “Because I don’t feel gay. The nurse—”

When Dean broke off, Castiel smiled. “The nurse was very attractive, yes. I believe you said I was the exception that proved the rule.”

Dean laughed, and Castiel wondered at the sound. It had been so long since Dean had laughed or even smiled, and now he met Castiel’s eyes, a self-deprecating smile still on his lips. “Maybe you should try to jog my memory,” he suggested.

Castiel hesitated, but it had been so long since he’d been alone with Dean; the apocalypse had always taken priority, but things had been so bad lately…

He leaned in, and Dean met him halfway with an uncharacteristically tentative kiss. Dean pulled back after a moment, confusion on his face. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would an angel want me?” Dean asked, his voice faltering. “I get that I’m devastatingly handsome, but that’s not much good for more than a night or two.”

Castiel knew that Dean was trying to lighten the moment with humor, but he had put Dean back together with his two hands, knit sinew and muscle and bone, and smoothed out old scars. Castiel pushed his hand up under the short sleeve of Dean’s green t-shirt, his fingers and palm fitting the scar perfectly.

Dean swallowed. “That is some kinky shit, Cas.”

“We’re connected. I pulled you out of hell.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s a little hard to believe.”

“I know.”

“It’s just—all a blank, you know? I got a few flashes, but nothing coherent.”

“Do you want to go to sleep?” Castiel asked, uncertain of what to say to reassure Dean.

Dean shook his head. “I’ve been in a coma for the last few days. The last thing I want right now is sleep.” He angled his body towards Castiel. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “It’s a stupid question.” At Dean’s affronted expression, he chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I, Dean? Besides, you were the one who once told me that you cannot help who you fall in love with.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Cas—I don’t _know_ you. I’m sorry, but—”

Castiel stopped his words with a finger on Dean’s lips. “It’s all right, Dean. There is no hurry; I am here to watch over you. I won’t leave.”

A range of emotions washed over Dean’s face, and he leaned in again. There was no hesitation in his kiss now; Castiel ran his hands down Dean’s back, using every trick he’d learned over the last months of their relationship to make Dean moan.

Slowly, not wanting to push too hard, or cause Dean alarm, Castiel pushed his hands under the hem of Dean’s shirt, reveling in the feel of smooth skin. After only a brief hesitation, Dean raised his arms, and Castiel pulled Dean’s shirt off over his head.

Dean’s fingers fumbled uncertainly with the buttons of Castiel’s shirt, and Castiel held onto his patience, waiting until Dean was able to push the shirt off of his shoulders.

Castiel met Dean’s eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty, but there was only a raw hunger, and Castiel thought that, perhaps, this felt familiar to Dean in a way that nothing else did.

He stood to finish undressing, and Dean did the same. They watched one another, and there was a hush in the room that felt sacred. Castiel stepped forward until his chest brushed Dean’s, and whispered, “Do you want this?”

“Yeah. Oh, yeah,” Dean breathed, moving forward to press his lips to Castiel’s.

Castiel maneuvered Dean back onto the bed until Dean was spread out beneath him. As Castiel used his hands and mouth to bring Dean to the edge, Dean cursed brokenly and begged for more. Castiel wondered if his hands and lips felt familiar to Dean as he moved in the slow and steady rhythm he knew would prolong Dean’s pleasure.

“Cas… Cas, please.”

Castiel didn’t think he’d ever be able to deny Dean, and so he increased the rhythm of his mouth, of his hands, until Dean cried out, hips jerking and hands clutching Castiel’s hair.

When Dean lay calm and sated, Castiel settled back beside him, head propped up on his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Okay?” Dean chuckled wearily. “Yeah, I think you could say that. Give me a minute, and I’ll return the favor.”

“That’s not necessary.” Castiel placed his hand over Dean’s heart, feeling the steady thumping under his palm. “I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, you gave me a happy all right.”

Castiel smiled. “Go to sleep, Dean.”

“Should probably shower again,” Dean murmured, his eyes already closed.

“Shower in the morning.” Castiel rubbed his thumb along Dean’s sternum. “Sleep now.”

But Dean was already asleep, and Castiel watched the even rise and fall of Dean’s chest and gave thanks that he had survived.

~~~~~

Castiel woke up the next morning with the knowledge that Sam was asking for him, and he dressed the blink of an eye before appearing in Sam’s room.

“Is Dean awake yet?” Sam asked.

“Not yet,” Castiel responded. “You called me?”

Sam smiled. “I wasn’t sure that would actually work.”

“You are important to Dean,” Castiel offered in explanation.

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I got that. Look, I’ve been doing some research on amnesia, and one of the recommended therapies is to surround the person with familiar things.”

Castiel knew where this was going. “I see. What would you recommend?”

“We’re already going to Bobby’s,” Sam replied. “But we’ll play Dean’s favorite music, and maybe, when he’s ready, we’ll take him hunting. Assuming that he’s ready, of course.”

“Of course.” Castiel understood Sam’s need to fix things, but he wasn’t certain that Dean needed to be fixed. For the first time in a long time, Dean had slept peacefully without nightmares.

Still, he would go along with Sam’s plan; there didn’t seem to be any harm in it.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said. “Tell Dean we’ll go out for breakfast this morning.”

Castiel arrived back in their hotel room to find Dean still sleeping, sprawled across the bed with his arms stretched wide. Castiel sat down in the chair next to the bed, not wanting to disturb him; there had been few enough nights where Dean slept peacefully.

Content to watch Dean, Castiel waited until he began to stir sluggishly and sleepy green eyes blinked open. “Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” He smiled, bright and wide, and there was an innocence and a lightness there that Castiel had never seen before. “So, we got time for some fun this morning?

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t think so. Sam wants to get breakfast.”

Dean sighed and flopped over on his back. “What’s the hurry?”

“Don’t you normally have to check out by ten or so?”

“Eleven,” Dean replied without pausing to think. He frowned. “How did I know that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s nearly ten now.”

Dean shook his head, as though to clear it. “I’ll grab a shower and be ready.”

Castiel leaned back in his chair, wondering how far Sam would go to make sure that Dean recovered his memories.

~~~~~

Remembering Sam’s plan, Castiel made certain to climb in the backseat before Dean could.

Dean seemed a little less rattled today; he settled into the passenger seat with a grin. “So, this is really my car?”

“Yeah, it’s yours.” Sam plugged a tape into the deck. By now, Castiel could recognize the sounds of Led Zeppelin as it filtered through the speakers, and he knew that was part of Sam’s plan as well.

Dean reached over and turned the volume up. “Awesome.”

“You remember this?” Sam asked hopefully.

Dean hummed along for a few bars. “Not really; not unless I don’t think about it too much.”

Sam fell silent, and Dean continued to hum along to the song; he was slightly off-key, and Castiel smiled fondly.

“So, where are we going?” Dean asked after the song had finished.

“Bobby’s place,” Sam replied. “He’s a family friend.”

“So, uh, we got anymore family?” Dean asked, clearly trying to sound casual, and not succeeding very well.

Sam visibly hesitated. Castiel had known this question would arise, especially since Sam had glossed over their parents’ deaths the day before, sticking to recent events and Castiel’s identity.

“I figured our parents were gone,” Dean said. “They weren’t at the hospital, and you didn’t have me call.”

Sam smiled. “Pretty good detective work.”

“Just putting the pieces together.”

Castiel could hear the smug note in Dean’s voice.

“Mom’s family is gone, and we’ve never met anyone from Dad’s side,” Sam said.

“Nobody else?”

“Pretty much just us.”

Dean appeared to be digesting that. “Mom?”

“A demon killed her. You were four; I was just a baby.”

“Dad?”

“Demons.”

Castiel knew better, but if Sam wasn’t going to tell Dean that John Winchester sold his soul to bring Dean back from the dead, he certainly wasn’t.

Dean remained quiet for a minute. “So, what did I do?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Cas said he pulled me out of hell. I had to have done something to get sent below.”

“You sold your soul to save me,” Sam said quietly. “And Castiel pulled you out because you were supposed to save the world.”

Dean let out a laugh. “Me?”

“Yeah, Dean. You.” Sam gave him a fond look. “You saved the world, and then you lost your memory.”

“Seems a shame I don’t remember how awesome I am.”

Sam and Castiel both laughed. “Yeah, Dean.” Sam let out another laugh. “It’s a real shame.”

~~~~~

Castiel had known almost everything there was to know about Dean; he had rebuilt Dean from the ground up, after all. What he hadn’t known was that Dean had made endless boxes of cheap macaroni and cheese and cans of ravioli. Or that he had made runs to the store for ginger ale when Sam was sick, even when Dean was half asleep. Or that he had sometimes gone without meals to make sure that Sam had enough to eat.

Castiel hadn’t known about the prank wars, about the Nair in the shampoo, or their tangles with the Ghostfacers.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Castiel had known everything, and yet he hadn’t understood what it meant to receive the full weight of Dean’s care.

“You make it sound like I was some sort of hero.” Dean stared out the window after another of Sam’s stories, a strange bitterness in his voice.

Sam sighed. “You _are_ a hero, Dean.”

“Come on, Sam.” Dean turned to face his brother. “Tell me I tortured you at least once.”

Sam chuckled. “More than once.”

“So, tell me about being a prick, because right now I’m not sure I can fill my own shoes.”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Well, I did threaten to throw you back into hell because you were being terribly annoying.”

Dean twisted in his seat to stare at Castiel. “Seriously? I pissed you off that much?” He sounded almost delighted.

“It was early in our relationship,” Castiel responded. “You can be quite infuriating.”

Dean grinned. “Keep going.”

“Come on, Dean. You didn’t hear the part where you put Nair in my shampoo?” Sam asked, exasperated.

“Yeah, but you started that one, right?”

“I _never_ started anything,” Sam shot back. “That was always you. In fact, one time you locked me in the closet for six hours.”

Dean scoffed. “And that was my fault?”

“You got pissed off at me because I caught you having sex with your girlfriend, and I threatened to tell Dad.”

Dean smirked. “Well, there you go. You were the one who started it. Let me guess. I let you out as soon as I was done.”

“When you were out of the shower. And then you threatened to skin me alive if I ever told Dad.”

Dean chuckled. “That sounds a little more like it. I was beginning to think I was boring.”

“Dude, Nair. And itching powder,” Sam pointed out. “Plus, I can’t even tell you how many nights I had to sleep in the Impala because you were busy banging some chick you picked up in a bar.” Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. “Sorry, Cas.”

“I’m aware,” Castiel said dryly.

Sam turned into Bobby’s driveway. “We’re here.”

“You sure he’s okay with us all just dropping in like this?”

Dean sounded uncertain, and Castiel didn’t hesitate to reassure him. “Bobby thinks of you like a son, Dean. He’ll be happy to see you.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Castiel could see Bobby standing out on the porch when they pulled up. Sam unfolded his long limbs from behind the driver’s seat and hurried to greet Bobby, who shook his hand and gave him a warm clap on the shoulder. Castiel suspected that Sam was giving Bobby additional information about Dean’s condition.

Dean followed more slowly, his feet nearly dragging on the ground, and Castiel matched his pace. He wanted to offer reassurance, but wasn’t sure what he could say.

“Well, you look all right,” Bobby drawled, looking Dean up and down. “Come here, boy.”

Watching with amusement and some wonder, Castiel thought about what it would be like to be welcomed like that, to have his back thumped in what Dean had once said was manly approval.

“Glad you’re in one piece,” Bobby said, releasing Dean and turning to go inside the house. “I’ve got dinner, so come on in. You too, Castiel,” he threw over his shoulder.

Although Bobby had never said much around Castiel in the past, he and Sam carried the conversation during dinner. Sam inquired about various hunters they knew, and Bobby filled them in, with Sam providing explanations and background for Dean when necessary.

Dean ate with gusto, but said little. Castiel naturally kept his silence, and so he had never before realized how difficult it was to participate in a conversation when one remembered nothing.

“You boys are welcome to stay as long as you need,” Bobby finally said after everyone had finished eating and pushed back from the table—even Castiel, who had found it easier to pretend to be human this way. “You know where the guest rooms are.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Actually—I don’t.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as all eyes turned to him. “But I guess Cas knows where we’re sleeping.”

There was a pregnant pause, Bobby and Sam giving Dean an appraising look that Castiel understood all too well.

“Sure he does,” Bobby finally said. “Why don’t you show him up?”

“Of course.” Castiel could feel Dean’s anxiety as the man followed him up the stairs and into the guest room they had used on their first night together—the first real night together, anyway.

Dean waited until they were safely inside the room with the door closed before he asked, “Did I say something wrong? Sam knows we’re together, but Bobby—”

“Bobby knows,” Castiel said quietly, cutting him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dean.”

Dean sank down on the bed. “But they didn’t look too happy with me. Aren’t they okay with us?”

Castiel sighed and sat down next to Dean. “They don’t mind.”

He didn’t know how to explain that Dean had never before admitted that they had a relationship. Castiel had appeared in Dean’s room, either after he’d gone to bed, or while Sam was away when they stayed in a motel. They had stolen moments in the backseat of the Impala, or in dilapidated houses, or in Dean’s dreams.

Never before had Dean spoken of their relationship out loud, however, or indicated that Castiel was more than a friend—even if Bobby and Sam knew better.

“I don’t understand,” Dean admitted.

“It’s okay.” Castiel leaned into Dean. “It doesn’t matter. Things are different now.”

“Because I don’t remember?”

“Because there isn’t an apocalypse.” And Castiel leaned in to do what he’d been wanting to do all day, feeling the innocent hunger behind Dean’s kiss, without that edge of desperation that spoke of a doomsday clock ticking down.

Castiel thought that he could get used to this.

~~~~~

The next morning dawned bright and clear, and it was obvious from breakfast onward that Sam had enlisted Bobby’s help to carry out his plan. First, there were pancakes, bacon and eggs—Dean’s favorite—while Sam continued his stories and explanations. After breakfast, Sam asked, “You want to do some target shooting?”

Dean shrugged, apparently willing to go along with whatever Sam had planned. “Sure.” As he rose to follow his brother, Dean looked over his shoulder. “Cas? Aren’t you coming?”

Castiel shook his head. “I have no need of guns, Dean.”

“Your angel mojo works on everything?”

Castiel hesitated. “Not everything,” he hedged. “But I’ve never—”

“Then now’s the perfect time for both of us to learn. Or relearn,” Dean added, with a grimace. “That okay?” he asked, looking at Sam, who shrugged his agreement.

It turned out that Dean was a natural, with or without his memories; Castiel was definitely _not_. On the sixth round of picking soda cans off of a stack of railroad ties, where Dean hit every one on the first try, and Castiel’s shots went wide or low or high, Castiel handed the weapon back to Sam. “I’m sorry.”

“Just takes practice, Cas,” Dean said expansively, clearly pleased with his own success. “You’ll get it.”

“Maybe Castiel should carry the shotgun.” Sam clearly did _not_ think that Castiel would eventually get it. “He won’t have to be as accurate.”

Dean snorted. “Come on, Cas. Here.” He checked the clip in his weapon, then handed it to Castiel. “Like this.”

Castiel felt himself flush as Dean came to stand behind him, Dean’s foot nudging his until Castiel’s stance was satisfactory. “There, like that,” Dean said in his ear, his chest flush to Castiel’s back, his arms coming around him, hands cradling Castiel’s.

“Now, take aim, and just squeeze the trigger.”

Sam had given them both the same instructions earlier, but with Dean so close behind him, guiding his every movement, Castiel hit every every soda can the first time.

“Just like that,” Dean murmured in his ear.

Sam cleared his throat loudly. “Okay! Great job, Cas. We can work on this again some other time.” He gave Dean a relieved smile. “We’ll be hunting again in no time.”

Some of the light seemed to leave Dean’s eyes then, but his smile remained fixed on his face. “Great,” Dean said. “That’s great.”

After lunch, Bobby suggested that they go over the Impala. “Sam said that the engine was making a strange sound.”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

“Cas?” Sam’s voice stopped him from following. “Can I talk to you?”

Castiel paused, meeting Dean’s eyes for a moment before nodding. Dean shrugged and followed Bobby outside, and Castiel remained in the kitchen with Sam. “What can I do for you?”

“How is he?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you ask him that yourself?”

“I’m asking you.” Castiel heard resentment in Sam’s voice when he added, “You’re closer to him than anyone else.”

Castiel hesitated, then decided not to point out that if Sam would stop avoiding Dean because of his own discomfort, that might not be true. “I don’t believe Dean’s memories will return, Sam.”

“Why?” Sam demanded. “Did you do something to him?”

Castiel looked down at the floor. “No, Sam. I’ve done nothing.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel confessed. “I just feel as though Dean’s memories may be gone forever. Perhaps it’s for the best.”

“The best?” Sam demanded, his voice rising. “He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember Mom or Dad, or anything!”

“He doesn’t remember hell.”

Sam glanced away, reddening slightly.

Castiel continued. “Dean doesn’t remember the losses he has experienced, or your betrayal. He can begin anew, choose his own path.”

Sam swallowed hard. “I thought—”

“I know. He doesn’t remember me either.” Castiel might not feel the loss as keenly as Sam, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what it was to look at Dean and wish he remembered their shared experiences.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?”

Castiel didn’t respond in words, merely patted Sam on the shoulder and went to join Dean and Bobby.

~~~~~

In the darkness of their bedroom, Castiel lay next to Dean, their shoulders just touching. They were both sticky with sweat but unwilling to move.

“It’s strange, what I remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“I remember how to shoot a gun, how to clean one,” Dean began. “All Bobby had to do was open the hood of the car, and I knew how it was supposed to work, what all the parts did. I’ll bet if we went after something—a ghost or a werewolf—I’d know how to stop it.”

Castiel remained silent.

“Do you know what happened at the end? Sam wasn’t there, so he can’t tell me.”

Castiel began slowly. “Only an angel can kill another angel.” The events of that day played over again in his mind. “You would not consent to be a vessel for an archangel, but there was no other way to kill Lucifer.”

“You possessed me?”

“I was the only angel to whom you would grant permission.” Castiel wished that Dean could remember what it had felt like, for their beings to be one, to be closer than they could ever be physically.

There would never be another opportunity like it.

“What happened next?” Dean sounded curious, not angry or disgusted, and Castiel let out a breath of relief.

Castiel turned his head. The moonlight cast strange shadows on Dean’s face. “I don’t know. You killed Lucifer and stopped the apocalypse. I returned to my vessel, and I was called back to heaven. You were going to look for Sam. When I was sent back, you had lost your memories.”

“Will they come back, do you think?”

Castiel wondered if it would be better to give Dean hope, or to tell the truth—and then he realized that he didn’t know what Dean hoped for.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Dean thought about that for a moment, then asked, “I know Sam wants me to remember, but what about you?”

“I want you to be happy,” Castiel replied simply.

Dean frowned. “And I couldn’t be if I remembered?”

“Perhaps, but you’ve been happier the last few days than I’ve ever seen you.” Castiel didn’t mention how relaxed Dean had been, or how he had laughed without bitterness. Perhaps Dean might have been happier once the apocalypse was over, but he would have still carried the weight of his years in hell.

That had been wiped away, and Castiel believed that it was more of a blessing than a curse; he thought that in time Sam would come to feel the same way.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I’m not sure I want to hunt.”

“Whatever you want to do, Dean,” Castiel replied. “I’ll be here.”

“Yeah, I guess so, since you’re my angel.” Dean sounded supremely satisfied as he settled back down next to Castiel, moving until they were spooned together, Dean’s back to his front. “’Night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.” Castiel wrapped his arm around Dean and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and saying a silent prayer of thanks. For once, he thought their blessings might outweigh their sorrows, and the future was wide open.


End file.
